


All the Empty Spaces

by dystopic (tasteofshapes)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, aww friendship, post - soul society
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofshapes/pseuds/dystopic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Ichigo will miss Rukia, and he'll definitely be glad to have his room back, but there'll still be an empty space there anyway. Secretly all about the things that they don't say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Empty Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> This was written aaaaaages ago (literally, years) and originally posted on my old Livejournal, so please forgive any errors!

Ichigo finds her on the rooftop of the division building, lying back against the old, worn tiles and watching the wispy clouds drift across the night sky. There's a kind of muted wide-eyed wonder in her face as she looks at the stars and feels a warm breeze against her face; for the last month she had been living in a box of constricted hope and resigned to fate with only the view of her looming execution to keep her company.  
  
Rukia has once again learnt to treasure simple pleasures. She doesn't snarl at Ichigo for disturbing her as he quietly drops to a sitting position beside her, unhooking Zangetsu and carefully setting it down. She waits patiently, still watching the twinkling blanket of stars covering the sky as Ichigo fidgets and mutters curses and shifts before finally settling down to lie on his back, his hands serving as a pillow for his head.  
  
Ichigo isn't the type to wander around and climb rooftops at night. She knows he had come to find her for a reason and Ichigo will talk when he's ready. For now she's content to listen to him breath, heavy and slow. If she closes her eyes she can almost imagine herself back in his small room, tucked into his closet with the door open for ventilation and sleepily listening to him mumble in his sleep.  
  
Here, back in Soul Society, Rukia's time in the living world feels like a waking dream. They're scattered puzzle pieces, and if she could only focus long enough she thinks that maybe she could fit them into a picture that made sense: Chad throwing her into the air while leeches exploded all around them; laughing with the other girls in her class as they sat underneath a shady tree for lunch; Ichigo watching her as she struggles with her juice box.  
  
Soul Society makes all that feel flat and ancient, like somebody else's set of old photographs; underneath the grime and dirt there's the time, date and emotions she vaguely remembers feeling. Rukia doesn't know how to connect the two: the world of the death gods and the world of the living. There are memories of Kaien dying in her arms juxtaposed against remembering the strangeness of putting on an unfamiliar school uniform; the cold Kuchiki house hallways against the wonder she felt at discovering the tight bonds within the Kurosaki family.  
  
It makes her tired just thinking about it, so she turns to look at Ichigo, this orange-haired boy who has changed her world as much as she's changed his. He's both an annoyance and precious at the same time.  
  
Ichigo can feel her looking at him, but doesn't look over. He sighs instead. "What is it, Rukia?" He sounds almost reluctant to break the contemplative peace that has settled over them.  
  
"Is something troubling you, Ichigo?" And that's the Rukia he knows, as sharp as ever as she hits straight for the heart of the matter.  
  
"No."  
  
Rukia raises an eyebrow, but doesn't force the issue. Instead, she says softly, "well, whatever it is, don't let it bother you. It is a beautiful night tonight." Her tone is almost wistful, and this time Ichigo does look at her, propping himself up on one elbow to stare confusedly down at her face.  
  
Rukia almost smiles at the skeptical expression on his face. "Don't you think so?"  
  
"Eh, yes," Ichigo agrees belatedly, then frowns. Making small talk annoys him. "You're not coming back with us." He flattens the last word, forces it down into a monotone so it doesn't curl up into the question of hope that it really is.  
  
It's not like he needs her explanations. He understands why, and he's not asking her to reconsider her choice, and it's definitely not that he will miss her or anything - finally he'll get his room back! All to himself, just like it was before, no more having to deal with Yuzu's curious looks as she purposely overlooks him sneaking food back up, no more having to deal with the awkwardness of having a female in close proximity even while he was asleep, no more having to listen to Rukia's rants and being forced to follow her crappy diagrams involving Chappy – no, it's not like he'll miss her, but he just thinks that maybe sometimes at night his room might feel a little bit… empty.  
  
He has gotten used to her being around, and those terrible days after she had been taken away had made him realize how much quieter it was without her intruding into every aspect of his life and messing it up and making it… brighter.  
  
He hates to admit it, but she fills up the empty spaces a lot better then he'd ever imagine.  
  
He looks at her, frowning slightly at that thought, and when Rukia smiles he knows she understands what he's not saying.  
  
"No, I'm not." she agrees, sitting up carefully. "But Soul Society is where I need to be now. It needs to be rebuilt and stabilized, and I will be more useful here, while I familiarize myself with it again and regain my strength."  
  
Ichigo nods. And he understands what she's not saying; had understood from the first moment she had told him and Inoue in that field, the wind pushing her hair into her face, and he had read the determination in her eyes, and instinctively understood. There are a lot of fractured ties to repair. They have taken her in and given her a family, but have also tried to kill her and destroy everyone and everything she cared about.  
  
But she has survived. And if there's anyone who can work through the aftermath, Ichigo knows it is Rukia, with all of her strange fierceness and unwavering faith and determination.  
  
"Rukia," Ichigo hesitates. He's well-aware that he will be entering into uncharted territory with the next question, topics marked off-limits like issues about his mother's death which he still has not resolved, but now that they're talking truths this is something that he needs to know. He tries to phrase it delicately. "Rukia, who is he?"  
  
At first Rukia looks blank. "He?" She echoes, and there's a faint grin on her face which Ichigo has come to categorize as the prelude to some serious Ichigo-baiting. "It may have escaped your attention, Ichigo, but there are many he in Soul Society, of different shapes and sizes and eyebrow accessories. Which one are you referring to?"  
  
So much for his sensitive approach. "The he that looks like me," Ichigo says, a tad impatiently. "That guy that Byakuya was talking about that time when he took you… away."  
  
Ichigo doesn't say " _back_ ". To him she was " _taken away_ ". To the others she was " _taken back_ ". There is a sharp difference between the two and he refuses to use the wrong phrase.  
  
Rukia inhales sharply, and turns to look at him with a dark expression. For a second he's convinced he's staring into his own eyes. There's a huge well of quiet pain behind that furious gaze, and Ichigo feels distinctly uncomfortable and stupid for blundering blindly into something so obviously private and personal. He lowers his head and says abruptly to the roof tiles, "Eh, forget it. Sorry I asked, you wouldn't know of course, I was being stupid…"  
  
He is trying to give her a way back out, to undo what he said, but of course Rukia doesn't take up the silent offer. She's never been one for the easy way out, all of which Ichigo is acutely aware of. He wishes he had never opened his stupid, big fat mouth in the first place.  
  
She swallows once, hard, then says firmly, "Shiba Kaien, fukutaichou of the Thirteenth Division. I… I killed him."  
  
There's a long pause. Ichigo searches hard for something to say. "Ahh."  
  
Rukia takes a moment, then says quietly, "yes. You do look like him." And that's the issue that has been bothering Ichigo all this while, and he's glad she brought it up without going into the messy details, which he's sure she can't handle without crumbling into guilt. He knows the feeling, after all.  
  
The breath rushes from Ichigo's body in a long whoosh, and he looks up at her. "That's just it," he says urgently. "Am I… Am I him? I heard, Ukitake was saying that the similarities were striking, and I was wondering, is it him? _Am I him?_ "  
  
The moment is heavy with expectancy. For some reason, Ichigo is holding his breath as Rukia looks at him carefully, as if she's trying to memorize every detail of his face.  
  
"You're you, Ichigo," she says finally, thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter if you look like Kaien, or if you behave in a way similar to him, or even if other people say you are. All I know is that you are you. Anything else shouldn't matter, as long as you know who you are. And you are Kurosaki Ichigo. So just _be_ Kurosaki Ichigo."  
  
It's one of the longest and most honest thing he's ever heard from her, and he's fighting to suck in air as he stares at her, as something within his tight chest begins to loosen, as Rukia smiles one of her rare, gentle smiles, and unconsciously her hand lifts of her own accord and she starts to brush Ichigo's fringe out of his eyes.  
  
But years of living with Isshin's surprise attacks has Ichigo reacting instinctively. Before Rukia even realizes what she's doing, Ichigo's hand has already whipped out and he's gripping her small wrist within his larger hand, while she stares perplexedly up at him.  
  
They're frozen in that strange tableau for a second, then Ichigo blinks and the moment is gone and he flushes as he releases his grip on her. If it were possible to die of embarrassment he'd be six feet under right now. "Uh, sorry."  
  
Rukia has that same bemused expression on her face. She carefully clears her throat and says, "If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just said so, you know."  
  
Huh? A million thoughts jostle and bump around in Ichigo's brain before it connects, and then he yelping in indignation as his flush flares right back up.  
  
"Hold- what- no- I-"  
  
"Ah, you're looking a lot like a strawberry now, Ichigo," Rukia comments delightedly.  
  
"Shut up," Ichigo grinds out from between clenched teeth, and concentrates on willing his mortification to fade. "You- you shocked me- your stupid hand-"  
  
Rukia laughs then, and even though it's filled with unholy glee, it's such a bright sound that Ichigo can't really resent her all that much. She's grinning like the mad Cheshire cat, but she holds herself back and doesn't press the issue, and for that he's grateful. They descend back into a comfortable silence, and Ichigo is left in peace to think about their talk.  
  
The lull in conversation and the late hour has Rukia trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, lying back on the roof tiles to gaze sleepily at the night sky. Ichigo is quiet as he works something out in his mind, his usual frown ever-present on his face.  
  
"Rukia," Ichigo says suddenly, just as she's about to close her eyes, "thank you."  
  
"For what?" Rukia glances up at him to check out his reaction and finds him looking at her out of the corner of his eyes with an intense look that she's all too familiar with.  
  
Ichigo hesitates. "Nothing. Never mind. Hey, it's late, let me bring you back to your room."  
  
After a month in solitary confinement with solid wall surrounding her on all sides, the idea of going back to a tiny confined space makes Rukia uncomfortable. She shakes her head. "I don't want to be contained. I'll sleep on the roof. You go."  
  
Ichigo sighs. Difficult as always. "The hell you will," he tells her roughly. "Don't be stupid and make me knock you unconscious and drag you all the way back."  
  
"Ichigo," Rukia says quietly, after a long pause, "don't think that just because I'm not going back with you means that I'll let you boss me around. And I'd better not come back to find that you've slacked off and not kept up with your training."  
  
Her eyes flash and she almost sounds threatening, but she knows he understands the message when his eyes widen at her unspoken promise. She watches him fight a smile to snort softly instead.  
  
"What training? You mean the part where you kick me in the face and call me names and then act disgustingly sweet in front of my friends so that they'd like you better then me?"  
  
Rukia can't help but laugh at the apt description, then turns and blinks sweetly at him. "Why, Kurosaki-kun, I have no idea what you're talking about! Why are you babbling nonsense? Did you fall off a division rooftop and hit your head?"  
  
Their faces are close enough that Ichigo can see the outline of her smile in the dark. Belatedly, he realizes that he's smiling back at her, and forces it into a scowl. "Why you little-!"  
  
Rukia dissolves into quiet, pleased laughter. And she doesn't protest when Ichigo impulsively reaches over and pulls her into a quick one-armed side hug, resting his chin on top of her head and breathing in her familiar presence. His grip on her this time is tight, and his expression is fierce as she turns to hug him back soundlessly.  
  
 _Come back soon, Rukia. All the empty spaces will be waiting for you._


End file.
